


July 4

by LittleMissOddball



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissOddball/pseuds/LittleMissOddball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur works up the courage to get Alfred a little something for his birthday but he gives it to himself instead. How many years later, he gives the exact same thing to Alfred, although it's not the same as from when he bought it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	July 4

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies! Here's another USUK for all the USUK shippers. <3   
> Show me some love by hitting that kudos button button!  
> Help me grow in my art by giving me comments and suggestions as to how I can improve my technique.   
> Criticism is the best teacher after all.   
> Love lots! <3  
> -Remi

July 4th

Dear Diary, (is that how the youngsters say it?):

So I got myself a little something. It’s been a while since I ever got myself anything for my own use except for when I really needed it. Aside from all the magic books and spells I have, this is basically a luxury I don’t always have. Well, as you can see, it is the fourth of July. I’m pretty sure that fat arseed wanker is drinking himself to no end as of the moment. I always remind him not to drink to much. But who am I to say anything when I basically drink and get as wild as much myself. But I worry about the idiot. I happened to only be the person that raised him to what he is now. Speaking of drinking, I should go visit him two days from now to give my greetings. As well as check up on him as I’m sure his home is a mess from all the parties. Will I ever tire from taking care of him? Will we ever be more than just personifications of landmasses with history?

No matter how much we try to deny it.

Funny, how I got this on his birthday. OR maybe I wanted to give it to him on his birthday, but again I was to cowardly to give it to him because of what we’ve become.

_What we’ve become huh?_

It’s quite strange when I think about it. Back in the old days when he was still holding on to me, I could remember every single day as being fun and always filled with many things to talk about. He would make me tea and he would eat the food I made him, no matter how much he resented my cooking. Of course he resented my cooking back then. He was a little child. He hadn’t developed his taste buds yet. He still hasn’t, the little twat.

Ahem

Back then, when technology was as old as I am, and I would be out to war, he would write to me every second of every day. How he was able to send so many letters all at once was beyond me. But not once did I complain, for I loved him as much as he loved me and I loved rereading those letters every time I would feel lonely. Sometimes I didn’t even have to reread them because I would be too busy reading his new letters, or I would be too busy replying to each one while simultaneously working on battle strategies. And the talking would never end on simply asking me how I was. When I would come home, we would spend the night sleeping together (not in the that way, idiot). He would ask me the same questions he did in the letters and I would ask him how his days were without me. No matter how big he grew, that never changed.

Until now I would ask myself, “what went wrong?”

1777?

To me, it was a silly idea to think everything ended because of that. I still worry about him and he would “worry” about me whenever Francis calls him up to take care of me while I’m drunk (or at least pretending to be). More often than not we would fight during world meetings but that’s because the fatherly figure I had and have will never fade for he will always be my little America, my star spangled son. My best friend. My love.

It pained me to see him grow, yet proud that he is becoming what we had always dreamed he would be. He has quickly surpassed me which saddened me as I realized he no longer needed me. He was walking down the road I couldn’t go, making friends and going places; seeing the world as he see fit and ruling it with an iron fist (and with burgers and fries).

I remained the same, old, Great Empire of Britain that didn’t want to face those facts. I remained bitter when he left me to be independent. Why did he do that? Did he grow tired of me? Was he sulking because I didn’t reply to his letters?

I wanted to believe it was simply the trivial things and that someday he would come back to me. But I knew somewhere, at the back of my mind, I knew why: I was no longer the center of his world. I felt betrayed, yes. I felt like all the effort of raising him, showering him with affection and loving him despite the idea that he would be much happier, safer and more comfortable in the care of France; all of that, gone in a flash, thrown aside and forgotten. Like it never happened. I can still recall the sleepless nights even after many years of separation. Strong torrents of run are a constant reminder of that fateful noon. And as always, my bed felt and still feels like it was too big.

But again, it was in his growing up that reassured me that he was fine. I can’t properly face him as the pain is still there. But I hope that day will come soon. And I mean SOON. This diary thing should be able to record all my progress until that time comes.

And then I’d like to look back on this after that happens.

Hopefully, with him smiling beside me.

 

**_ Arthur Kirkland  _ **

**_ Great British Empire _ **

 

**{~Present Day~}**

Arthur leaned back on their bed, his cheeks a thousand shades of red. His eyes remained focused on somewhere else as Alfred flipped to more pages of the brown and wrinkly pages of the Brit’s diary, his smile unfazed and his eyes wide as platters.

“I...don’t know what to say about this, Artie.”

“Then don’t say anything, wanker. “

“But I have to say something. This is your heart speaking through words on paper.You’re never EVER gonna say this to me. Even during sex!”

“SH-SHUT UP, YOU TWIT! Oh, just hand it over!” The British jerked upwards to grab the bounded papers but Alfred yanks it backwards and throws it to the ground. He then pushes Arthur back down on the bed, a grin spreads through his face as he watches the naked blond man squirm underneath him.

“Unhand me this instant, Alfred!”

“No!”

“How dare you defy the Great British Empire!”

“You said the same thing to me after 1777!”

“And I’m saying it again: UNHAND. ME.. “

"Do you really want that?” Alfred’s eyes darkened his gaze growing steely and his grip tightening around Arthur’s wrists. “Do you really want me to let you go, Artie?” he growled in the smaller man’s ear. Arthur tried his best to stifle back a moan but is powerless against the pleasure and pain of being underneath the blond American. He manages a few words but the rest were all a mumbo-jumbo as he reduced into a puddle.

“S-Stop it...I can’t...Al...” he squirmed at the feel of Alfred’s hands tweaking his nipples and sucking on his neck.

“Can’t what?” he pushed inside deeper making Arthur scream. “Oh is this it?” He hit the same spot and Arthur screams even louder and his body shudder violently. “Remember this, Arthur...:” he thrusts again, this time harder at the same spot “I let you go once. I am NOT letting you go again. Understand?”

“Ah! I’m...ah..please...”Arthur pleads as he reaches for Alfred’s back and digs his nails into his the latter’s flesh. Alfred winces at the pain but continues thrusting into him,slowing at times to mash their lips together sending their tongues in a violent clash for domination, their moans getting louder and louder as they feel the release coming closer and closer.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND, ARTHUR!?” Arthur stops his thrusting and Alfred groans at the cease of action. His body was hot and he was aching from the inside and the bloody twat had to stop now He let loose all his pride and closed his eyes.

“I UNDERSTAND! Now please...ah! Let me come. With you, Alfred. Please!”

Alfred smirks. “Good. Hang onto me tight, babe.”

He grips the Brit by the hips and thrusts hard a few couple times and releases it all inside him as Arthur spreads his white all over their stomach. They remain lying on the bed together panting after that third round, their hands still intertwined. Alfred  cups his lover’s cheeks with one hand and turns Arthur’s face towards him to give him a kiss. Not the adult kind of a kiss. The gentle kiss full of love and affection. They released after a while for air then snuggled under the blanket. Arthur sighed.

“Bloody hell, I just wanted you to let go of my wrists because it was getting painful.” The blond Brit scrunches his brows together in a V-shape. “You take things too literally.”

Alfred just laughs. “I just wanted you to understand a few things.”

“As if I didn’t understand anything, you little shit.”

“What?’

“Nothing!” Arthur turned his back on the American and slumped himself in one of the pillows just to hide the even redder than before red across his cheeks. “Just saying goodnight to my friends.”

“It’s actually good morning, Artie. “

“Whatever. Shut up already.”

_Heh. He’s so bad at acting cool._ Arthur thought. He leaned over the British, whose eyes were sealed shut after feeling the bed sink to the weight of the American. “Good morning Artie.” he says lovingly as he plants a kiss on Arthur’s forehead and goes to sleep as well. Once he felt like the American had finally dozed off, Arthur rouses from his position and stares at Alfred’s sleeping face. He can’t help but smile and hover over him giving him a small peck on the lips.

“My heart is yours, my star spangled love. Back then, now and forever.”

 

 

Alfred simply smiles.


End file.
